Sweet Temptation (12 page)

It's time to stop.

“We . . . ,” I mumble. “Baby, I . . . we have to . . .” Stop.

I am baffled by this thought. It's as if it's coming from a greater power outside me. With sudden clarity I know Anna will regret this spontaneous decision to sleep with me, for reasons I can't begin to understand, but I
know
. Something will not be right if we do this. The sureness of it is enough to scare the shite out of me.

I shake my head. My entire body goes stiff and I try to lift myself, but Anna has ahold of me, and she's whimpering for more like a needy little vixen.

I have to momentarily close my eyes against the sight of her.

“We can't,” I whisper.

“Kai?” The sound of the surprise and hurt in her voice kills me. I want to give her what she wants—what we both want.

It's time to stop.

I want so badly to ignore this stupid fucking feeling of intuition, or whatever the hell it is, and take this girl with every ounce of strength in my body, but I don't dare. I've never had a feeling this strong and clear. When I attempt to move off her, she tightens her hold around my waist. Her back arches underneath me again, lifting her hips to mine in the most agonizing way. I am about to lose all control.

“Damn it, Ann, please! Don't. Move.”

Our gazes collide, and we're both panting with unsated need. She's gorgeous and so bloody hot for me that I have to look away.

And move. Quickly. I get my arse off the bed, and immediately that overpowering sense of intuition leaves me, and it's just me and the beast. Scorching pain racks me from thigh to stomach, and my head gives a giant throb. I grab my hair, pacing—I can't stay still. What have I done to myself? It feels as if I might die. I try to shake away the excruciating headache that makes me barely able to open my eyes, but it's no use.

“You don't want me.” Anna's small voice shoots straight through my ears and down to my core, making me groan with animalistic longing. Her eyes water and she looks lost.

Can she not see how I want to ravish her like the devil I am? I like to think of the beast and myself as separate entities, but I'm fooling myself. We are one and the same. Right now I want to give in to my darkest urges, throwing caution and gentleness aside, shredding every scrap of cloth between us, and overpowering her body with mine to see how loud her sweet voice can get.

“Don't do that,” I struggle to say. “That was the single most difficult thing I've done in my entire life.”

I stand, trying to clear my head.

“I don't understand, then,” she whispers.

No, no she doesn't. And neither do I.

“You didn't do anything wrong, okay? And don't think for a second I don't want you—” I push my knuckles against my pounding forehead. “But it shouldn't be like this.”

“Like what?” she asks.

Everything is wrong. I don't even know how to explain it. I'm so bloody frustrated. Why is she asking me these questions? Is she blind to the kind of person she is, and the kind I am? None of this is good enough for her.

“Uncommitted,” I say. “In a hotel room.”

“Then commit.” Her voice is resolute. As if it's that simple.

I throw my arms out, at a loss. “I can't!” That is not my life, and will never be. She can try to slum it with me all she wants, and fool herself into thinking it's okay, but I know the difference between us. Eventually, she will, as well.

“I'm not taking your virginity,” I tell her. “You would regret it.”

I lean my forehead against the wall, but the pain in my gut is too powerful to stand. I turn and slide to the floor, elbows on my knees, face in my hands. My abdomen contracts in anger as I force myself to breathe.

I hope she understands. I hope she can forgive me and move on with her life, realizing how narrowly she escaped being ruined by the biggest bastard she'll ever meet. I will take her to that convent and then we must go our separate ways. She and Patti can move to the middle of nowhere and she can attempt to live in peace. It's good that we didn't have sex—this way she'll be able to forget about me, and she'll be okay.

I look up at her, feeling a sliver of hope for her, and that's when I see it.

She's staring right at me, and floating around her body like a grand cotton-candy swirl is the pink of love. For half a second my heart rejoices—
she loves me.
And then I realize . . . I've ruined her anyhow.

I shut my eyes and lose all energy.

In a perfect world I would stand and take her in my arms. In a perfect world I would be her stupid boyfriend and make love to her all night without worry. In a perfect world I'd tell
her the words I've been too afraid to admit to my own self.

As quickly as my heart swells, it seizes in terror. Anna doesn't know the stories of Neph who fell in love and attempted secret relationships, only to be executed in horrific public displays as warnings to other Neph.

I will not allow that to happen to Anna.

I hear her moving about the room but cannot bear to open my eyes yet. When the phone rings I still don't move, but I listen to her conversation.

Holy shite. The nun is dead.

“I'm the devil's son straight out of hell, and you're an angel with a haunted heart.

If you were smart you'd run and protect yourself, from a demon living in the dark.”

—“Save Yourself” by My Darkest Days

I
'm not accustomed to hanging around once things get awkward. I know Anna expects me to say something, but I can't. I take her to the convent to get whatever this nun has left her, and then take her back to the hotel room. We sit on her bed and I use my knife to open the box. I won't lie, I'm dying of curiosity—but what we find inside takes me completely by surprise.

I stare down at the shimmering hilt. Every major pulse point in my body is pounding erratically. This cannot be what I think it is. . . .

“May I?” I ask.

“Go ahead.” She nods toward the mysterious sword hilt.

I pick it up with care, and it's warm in my hands. The metal feels solid, but just under the surface it seems to swirl as if made of liquid.

Blood slams inside my ears and head. “I don't believe it,” I whisper.

“What?” Anna asks. “What is it?”

Could it be a heavenly relic? I quickly drop it back into the box and close my hands into fists. Anna reaches for it, and the second her fingers touch it she gasps and yelps, yanking her hand away as if she's been stung. This confirms everything I need to know.

“What is this thing?” She stares at it with distrust.

“It clearly wasn't forged on earth. I think— But it's impossible. A Sword of Righteousness?” Saying the words out loud sends a wave of cold over me. I've heard tales of these weapons, but I've never heard of one being on earth.

“What's that?” she asks in awe.

“They were used by the angels in the war of the heavens.” Used by angels, feared by demons.

“But why is she giving it to me?” Anna asks.

Why, indeed? Was this nun truly human?

“Only the angels of light could use them. The old legends say the blade will appear when needed if the wielder is pure of heart. Anna . . . it's the only known weapon that can take out a demon spirit.”

We stare at each other, and her eyes are wide when she asks again, “And why is she giving it to
me
?”

Isn't it obvious? Anna is good and pure and full of innocence, like an angel. The Sword of Righteousness reacted to her touch. But in my sordid hands it was useless. There have always been major differences between us, but in this moment it's as if stone barriers are erected around her.

OFF-LIMITS
.

She is destined for something I cannot fathom. Something I could easily ruin if I stay near her. Today I had a freak moment of strength, but I can't guarantee that will ever happen again. I need to get her to safety, away from me.

Her eyes have gone a bit foggy with shock.

“I need to clear my head,” I say absently as I grab my wallet and keys. I give Anna instructions to call Patti on the room phone, and I rush out.

My hands are shaking and my stomach churns when I climb into my vehicle and start the ignition. I drive two miles away and park in a shop's lot. It only takes a few minutes to do a one-way-flight search. It's already after dark, but I'm hoping I can get Anna on a late flight tonight.

No such luck. Damn it. I slam my palm on the steering wheel. I don't want to chance another night with her, but I also feel ill at the thought of having her out of my sight. I book her for the earliest flight back to Atlanta in the morning, and then my gut twists as I make a more difficult call.

“Miss Patti?” I say when she answers. “It's Kaidan Rowe—before you ask, everything is all right.” She lets out a huge breath. “Erm, have you spoken to Anna yet?”

“Yes, we just got off the phone. Are you okay, Kaidan?”

“Well . . .” I clear my throat and gather my wits. “I've just
run into some issues and I won't be able to drive Anna home after all, so I've booked her a flight.”

“Issues? Are you in danger?” Her concern makes the back of my throat burn.

“No,” I lie. We're always in danger. “Nothing like that. Let me give you her flight information.”

She takes it down, and when we hang up I get out, keeping a constant watch for demon whisperers. Remembering Anna has no money for her trip home, I stop at a corner ATM and take out cash for her. Then I walk. I can't go back to her yet.

It's a busy street with two nightclubs and a bar. I must be giving off pheromones like a champ because heads are swiveling my direction as we pass and red auras are popping up, even through the haze of drunkenness here and there. For once I'm unfazed, despite the needling ache deep within.

I need to walk it off. Or run. Or pound something with my fists. Because for once in my life I want something—truly want something—that I cannot have.

“Hey, you,” murmurs a girl in a black dress who's getting out of a car with her friends. She touches my arm, but I keep walking, slipping right past her. I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Lust is the groveling cousin of love. It's the house made of straw and sticks. It cannot compare. I was a fool to think chasing lust forever could be enough. That is not a life. I would take one moment of love with Anna over a lifetime of meaningless lust, but I can't. That's not my fate, and it hurts worse than anything I could imagine. God, if my father could see me now. He would have my balls for tea.

I walk and walk until I'm craving Anna's presence so strongly it sends me jogging back to the lot where I left my car. I half expect to be pulled over as I speed back to the hotel, but L.A. cops are too busy to worry with me.

I run up to the room and am blasted with Anna's scent when I open the door. I practically tremble as I breathe her in. A stab of abdominal pain hits me, but I ignore it as I walk into the room. She's restless in sleep, and I want to climb into her bed and hold her. I'm a fucking mess as I sit on my bed, longing like a heartsick boy for the girl on the other side of the room.

I set the alarm for four thirty, but there's no hope of sleep for me. This could be my last time with Anna, and I just want to experience these hours of being in her presence.

Four thirty is a right bitch. Anna is confused and groggy when the alarm goes off and I tell her we need to get an early start. I don't have the heart just yet to tell her I'm taking her to the airport. Our grand adventure is over. That bubble has popped, and reality is glaring into my face, as hideous as ever.

Like the good girl she is, Anna gets ready and climbs into my car without complaint. I feel my mood plummeting to wicked depths as we approach the airport.

“Where are we going?” she asks sleepily.

My heart picks up speed with nervousness.

“You're going home today. Everything's been arranged. Patti will be waiting for you when your flight arrives in Atlanta.”

“Why?” She sits forward a bit so she can look at me.

“Things have gotten too complicated.”

“Do you mean because of the sword or because of me?” she asks. She doesn't sound happy, and I'm afraid this will get ugly. Why must I constantly explain the danger we're in? Why is she unable to grasp these facts?

“It's you,” I say.
It's everything about you.
Everything I'm not. Everything I can't have. Anger at the injustice of it all rises up to suffocate me.

“Is it so unbearable to be around someone who cares for you?” she asks.

Let's not beat about the bush.

“I'd say you're feeling a bit more than ‘care' for me, Anna. I could see your emotion popping around you like pink bubble gum last night.”

“So what?!” she yells. “I haven't tried to
say
it to you. I'm sorry I lost focus for a second and let you see it!”

I grit my teeth and take the airport exit. This entire situation is driving me mad. The sooner she's away from me, the better. “Don't be dramatic about this.”

“You don't call this dramatic? Abandoning me at the airport before daylight?”

Abandoning? As if I'd leave her in an unsafe situation.

“I'll see that you're in safe hands before I leave.”

“Don't bother!” She's seething, and her angry passion stirs me. But then everything shifts as her chin trembles. “I've never even been on a plane before.”

I desperately hope she doesn't cry. I prefer her anger to her tears.

“You'll be fine,” I say.

“I want to stay with you.”

Don't cling, Anna, please don't cling. Don't make this harder for me, when all I want to do is cling, as well.

“You can't,” I say. “Your father was right. You should get home as soon as possible. I don't trust myself with you.”

“Don't trust yourself? Or don't trust me?”

I'd thought about this all night. I'd imagined dozens of scenarios where we'd run away together. I imagined what it would've been like if I'd ignored that intuition and kept going when Anna told me not to stop. I imagined a life in Atlanta where we'd sneak to be together when my father goes to New York each week. And every single imagining ended the same way.

In our early deaths. Watching Anna be killed.
Reality.

This is clearly not what Anna sees when she imagines us. She still envisions rainbows, kittens, and fucking unicorns.

Frustration ignites. I explode. “I don't trust either of us! We can't be together in
any
capacity
ever
again. It's a damn-near miracle you're still a virgin now. If that Sword of Righteousness is intended for you to use, then you should want to stay away from me, too, because I promise I could not resist if you told me to pull the car into that parking garage right now.” I inch closer, daring her. “Could you resist a drug if I repeatedly placed it on the tip of your tongue, Ann? Could you? We're playing with fire!”

Her eyes are wide and filled with realization. She now sees how hard last night was for me, but pity isn't what I want. Nothing I say has the effect I need it to have. I glance up at the outdoor check-in desk, which blessedly has no line.

“So, what are you going to do now?” she asks. “Go back to doing your father's work and pretend you never knew me?”

That's exactly what I'd intended, though it sounds so pathetically depressing when she says it. I sigh and let my head hit the headrest. “What would you have me do?”

She pauses a long while. “You have to work.” Anna's voice is full of emotion, and I wish for the millionth time that she wasn't so soft for the things of this world. I need her to be tougher, more aware. I need her not to love me. I need her to let me go.

“Do you know what my father said when I came home the night after he met you?” I say quietly. “He said God was a fool to put you in my path. And he was right.”

“No. Your father was wrong! And how do you know it wasn't
you
who was put in
my
path? There's a purpose for you in all of this, too.”

I want to laugh at her naive view and the ridiculous notion that I can be used for anything good, but I can only shake my head. She thinks all I've done is seduce a few girls for a bit of fun. The only reason she fell for me is because she doesn't know everything about me. It's time to remedy some of that.

I tell her about Father's relationship with Marissa and watch as her eyes narrow in horror when I mention an underground prostitution ring in Atlanta.
That's right, sweet Anna,
I want to say.
I'm involved with sexual slavery. What do you think of me now?

“The girl they brought me the night before our trip was the youngest ever. She couldn't have been twelve. For the first time ever, I refused him, told him I couldn't.”

She shakes her head, face pale as I release some of the demons that haunt me.

“You put thoughts into my head that Neph shouldn't have.” I look away from her, out the window. I've never shared any of my fears with anyone. I should tell her to get out of the car and go, but now that I've opened these cursed floodgates, I can't stop. She's the only person in the world I can talk to, and I have to make her understand. “He'll be watching me now, testing me. I can't afford to have anything more to do with you.”

“Kai . . . I know you're freaked out. I am, too. But maybe this sword is a sign that something's going to happen. Something good for the Neph.”

I feel my shoulders slump. This might be her most naive thought yet. If anything's to happen with that sword, it's nothing to do with me or the Neph. Nothing good can come to us.

“You felt power when you touched the hilt, didn't you?” I ask. I look at her and she nods. “Well, I didn't. I'm not worthy to help with whatever plan they have for you. So just go back to your sweet and innocent life and stay away from me.”

“Please,” she begs. “Don't push me away. We can be friends, and—”